Leto
by Nenbby
Summary: Dante has a 'pet housekeeper' of sorts and said 'housekeeper' is pretty chill. All he asks in return is beer and pizza. Perfect. Nothing could possibly go wrong. Dante x OC   Warning: Male Slash.   Rated for Language and Adult Themes
1. Twice

**Leto**

***Note:** I do not own Dante or any of the characters from the Devil May Cry universe. They belong to Capcom. Leto belongs to me. This is also my first story in a while, and if you have any tips for me, please send me a message. I wouldn't want for you to post a critique as a review. If I take the critique into consideration and edit the story accordingly, the critique would then make no sense. Again, I don't care what you say in your review, but be respectful. Respect goes a long way, and if you give it, I give it back. You don't have to like what I write, I just ask that you respect me, as we are writers and readers. I also _know_ what a critique is and also what 'constructive criticism' is. Please do not assume that I am an idiot. I also appreciate when people _listen_ to my polite requests.

**Disclaimer: **This fic has a lot of crude words. It also has a lot of crude phrasing. Nothing is described flowery, or even remotely pretty. It was my intention that the grittiness of the story itself would reflect the characters and the setting. As this is the first chapter, I will not be revealing everything about Leto. The fic is called Leto because it is _about_ him and his time with Dante. The first chapter is simply a slice of their life together. It gets interesting, I promise.

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><p>Dante was laid over the arm of his couch, his legs allowed to sag uselessly on the floor. His face was in the couch cushion, his arms just as uselessly draped over his head.<p>

When Leto returned to see the devil hunter draped across the couch in such utter unhappy defeat, he barked a laugh and came up behind him. "Come on, legs." he said.

Dante sighed. He pushed himself up so that his feet were against the ground and so that he didn't look like he playing dead on the couch anymore. "I really don' wanna." he groused.

Leto only shushed him and said that he knew.

Who wouldn't give an arm to see Dante draped over his couch, naked, his ass presented perfectly?

Leto stood back to admire Dante, the latter glowering at the couch cushion.

"You gonna stop being an asshole?" Dante growled.

Leto grinned and shushed Dante.

The devil hunter heard nothing, no cap being popped and sighed as he waited. Apparently Leto was going to drag this privilege out, and abuse it to its fullest. He'd remind Leto that because he was an asshole toda— Leto's hands were on his ass, smoothing what felt a lot like— "Baby oil?" Dante asked.

Leto grinned and dripped some more on Dante's ass, smoothing it over his creamy cheeks. "Like a baby's butt, you gotta feel this." he said and grabbed one of Dante's hands, placing it on the devil hunter's own ass.

"Wow yeah." Dante marveled, but his hand was batted away the instant he'd spoken. Dante sighed and let Leto have his fun, flinching a bit as Leto's fingers swiped down his crack and up against his hole.

Leto poured more baby oil on Dante, right in the cleft of his cheeks.

Dante slapped the cushion in annoyance. "Dammit Leto, that shit is getting on my balls…" he complained.

Leto rolled his eyes and apologized, slicking Dante up one last time before he oiled up his dick. "Ready?" he asked Dante.

"No." Dante groaned and hung his head, knowing that "No" meant "Yes" in this situation.

Leto sighed, making a comment under his breath about how he didn't complain about taking it from Dante, and how the devil hunter was way bigger than him.

Leto wasn't as big as Dante, (who had a freakishly large penis) but to Dante's near-virgin ass (he'd let Leto do this about four times before), he was big enough.

Carefully Leto pushed into Dante, but once he'd gotten the head of his cock in, Dante was already panicking.

"Oh God no no, I can't do this." the older man said, trying to push himself away from Leto.

Leto sighed and ran a hand up and down Dante's back. "Relax, I'll go get the lube too." Leto said, leaving Dante there to thank God there was still some delay between his ass and Leto's invading dick.

He didn't get too much time to relax, because Leto's fingers were sliding against his hole again, inside it. Dante winced. Leto's fingers weren't as bad as his cock, but… Dante generally didn't like anything up his ass. The devil hunter was about to ask what the hell Leto thought he was doing when he felt the other man's fingers slide out and Leto's cock slide up against his ass. "Mmn Leto… what are you doing?" he asked.

Leto smiled. He knew Dante liked being rimmed, and loved it when Leto played with his taint a little. He also knew that Dante was really not looking forward to being fucked right now. So, to make things easier, he was going to soften him up a bit. "Shut up, you talk too much." Leto said, sliding his hands down Dante's ass to rub at his inner thighs, the sides of his hands barely skimming the devil hunter's cock.

Enjoying himself, Dante didn't get time to panic as Leto slid in a second time. He got out a "wait no—", but Leto was shushing him, pulling out a little to push back in, further, and slowly slid in until the soft flesh of Dante's ass was pressed against his stomach.

Dante was huffing, but he wasn't cussing, which was a good sign.

"Feel good?" Leto asked.

Dante snorted rudely. "No, but it doesn't feel bad." he answered.

Behind him, Leto was grinning. He'd get the devil hunter used to taking it, hell, he might even manage to make him like it!

"How does it feel?" Leto asked. He needed to know. He wanted to see how far he had to go before Dante started being eager to get fucked.

Dante, had he heard Leto's thoughts, would have kindly informed the younger man that he would never be eager to get fucked.

"It feels… fine." Dante said, which was useless to Leto, because 'fine' didn't really mean anything.

"Fine how?" Leto asked.

Dante growled in irritation. "Fine. It doesn't hurt. I don't like it, but it's not bad." he said.

"Oh." Leto said.

This was why Dante preferred that he was the one doing the fucking. There was no awkward conversation about 'how it felt'. When Dante was behind Leto, both of them knew how 'it' felt. The only conversation between them was a chorus of cusses and groans, maybe even a little dirty talk, to shake things up.

Dante rolled his eyes and slid his feet closer to the couch to push himself up a bit higher on the arm of it. Leto took this as an opportunity to grab him by his neck and pull him up into a kiss. It was more like Dante puffing breaths into the younger man's mouth, but it was whatever floated Leto's boat at the moment.

Dante just wanted him to finish.

Leto abandoned Dante's mouth and the devil hunter leaned forward, rolling his eyes skyward and muttering to the God of Pizza and Beer about how he'd never waste beer or pizza again (as if he did…) if they helped him out here.

Leto was in the zone though. Dante was tight (and Dante had told him he'd punch him in the mouth if he ever said it out loud) and just being able to look down at the devil hunter's back was seriously doing it for the young man.

Leto was predictable, though. Dante was flooded with relief when he felt the younger man speed up, the muscles of his legs tightened. They felt like rocks against the back of Dante's thighs.

Dante lifted his brows as he felt Leto's hands grip his shoulders. He was about to open his mouth and say something snarky when Leto brushed—"Fuck!" Dante shouted, his fingers digging into the couch.

Leto grinned, drew back and pushed in again, hard.

Dante shouted again, this time nothing intelligible.

"What the fff— FUCK!" Dante said, finding himself shouting again. Leto would call it screaming. "Leto!" Dante said, his voice hoarse. "Leto what are you— what is— GOD!" He slapped the armrest. "Dammit stop that! What the hell!"

But Leto didn't listen. He kept at it, giving Dante no time between screams to even question him anymore. He was close and, this time, Dante would orgasm too.

In fact, the devil hunter came first, amid a hoarse "fuck", actually.

Grinning (a grin that Dante would call "shit-eating") Leto closed his eyes and gripped Dante's hips tightly, pounding into him the last minute or so before he came.

Dante was busy collecting his wits and catching his breath, too busy to grin at the way Leto sounded when he came (always like a bottom, even when he was topping).

For a moment there was just the two of them, breathing hard and covered in a fine sheen of sweat, then Dante made a rude noise and looked over his shoulder. "Mind getting off?" he asked.

Leto flushed and pulled out, earning a grunt of relief from Dante.

The two of them made their way to the back, where the shitty excuse for a bathroom was. As Dante wiped himself, making a face, Leto washed himself in the sink.

"Make sure you wipe that thing down. I don't want see a ring while m'brushing my teeth." Dante said as he stretched in front of the toilet, remembering to keep a hand on his dick.

Leto made a face as Dante groaned, the sound of him pissing was really obnoxious. Then again, Dante was obnoxious, all around. Well, sometimes. Sometimes he could be a perfect gentleman, and Leto liked it, so he never really mentioned Dante's change in behavior. He cleaned the sink as he waited his turn at the toilet, marveling at how Dante didn't want a ring in his sink, but had no problems with the ring in the shower, or the toilet.

"G'head." Dante said, patting Leto's ass as he walked out the bathroom.

"Dante!" Leto called. The man had gotten Leto used to talking to him while he was using the john.

"What?" Dante shouted back, pulling his pants on.

"You going out today?" Leto asked, flushing the toilet.

"What?" Dante asked, slipping his jacket on.

"I said… oh. You're going out today aren't you?" Leto asked, leaning in the doorway of the bathroom.

Dante turned to look at Leto and ran his tongue over teeth, lingering on his canine. Leto looked good there, slim and naked, flushed from sex just minutes before. "Stay pretty Leto, I won't be long." he said and grabbed his guns from the desk, sliding them into their holsters.

"You always say that." Leto said, pushing up from the doorway and walking past Dante to lounge on the other side of the couch. He'd clean the cum off of it later. He'd get dressed later too. Dante had gotten him used to being naked too.

"You're lucky I don't get much traffic. Wouldn't you turn bright red if a client walked in?" Dante said as he walked to the door, grabbing his sword from its resting place on the wall.

"Dante, nobody ever comes in here. Besides, I think they'd be more offended by the smell than a naked man on the couch." he said, but Dante was right. If anyone walked in and saw him there, naked, he'd be very embarrassed. It was why he was already reaching for his shorts.

"I promise I'll be back soon" Dante said and gave Leto the smile that had gotten the younger man on his knees in a dirty alley back when they first met.

Leto bit his lip. "Fine fine. Whatever. Just come home with a pie and a case or I'm pushing the desk by the doors." Leto said, laying back on the couch, his arms behind his head.

Dante snorted. "Couldn't move that desk if your life depended on it." he said, already out the door before he could bail on the job and find himself in between Leto's legs again. Hey, it had happened before.

Leto sighed as he heard the doors bang shut. The last time Dante said "he'd be back soon", he hadn't come back for a month. When he did come back, he had an arsenal of weapons with him and demon paraphernalia.

Leto hadn't believed in demons before Dante came along. Now, with all the demon crap Dante brought home, and that one time he'd transformed just to prove Leto wrong… Leto believed. He believed like people believed car crashes happened. Basically he believed it on principle, but never thought it would affect him. After all, how many shops were out there that sold replicas of everything?

He wasn't calling Dante a bullshitter, what with his guns and sword and whatever, but he had trouble believing that demons infested the city like Dante said they did. Leto thought that maybe Dante just didn't want him getting mugged or anything. It was sweet, in a Dante kind of way, but Leto walked with a gun and knew how to use it.

It was fifteen minutes after Dante left that Leto decided to get up and try to clean up some. First he wiped down the couch, stacked the pizza boxes on the garbage cans outside (the street kids would raid them and they'd be gone in the morning), and collected the bottles, packing them in their cases. He'd put those outside later, for the bottle collectors. Somehow, trash in this city never made it into the garbage trucks (whenever one dared to trawl the city, that is).

The place was fairly clean, and Leto had changed the air fresheners hanging here and there. There was nothing to do, the redhead was bored. He'd put on a pair of jeans and boots, laces loose. Dante had also gotten him used to being shirtless.

He was lounging in Dante's chair, having a nap when someone banged on the door.

Leto jolted awake and got up, looking around guiltily.

"Dante!"

Leto frowned. That was a woman's voice.

He really wasn't jealous of Dante's numerous other flings, but he certainly had a problem with them coming up to the shop. Call him territorial.

He walked around the desk, yanking the door open just as the woman began to bang on it again. Leto blocked her view of the inside of the shop with his body, sizing the woman up. Yeah, she was definitely Dante's type. Big jugs, long legs, short skirt. Her eyes were two different colors, but he was sure that didn't bother Dante any.

Lady stared up at the man at the door, her brows raised. Definitely not Dante. He had long hair, red like Nevan's, and his eyes were a much darker blue than Dante's. He also had a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose and dusting his shoulders. He wasn't a waif, but he wasn't a beefcake either (Dante was the beefcake).

Leto raised his brows as the woman studied him. "Can I help you?" he asked.

"No. Where's Dante." Lady snapped.

"Not here." Leto drawled.

"What do you mean, not here?" she asked, pushing her way in past the redhead.

Leto made a rude noise and shut the door, following her path to Dante's desk. "I mean 'Not Here'." he said and sat on the corner of the desk. He watched as the woman explored the place, looking for Dante as though he might have hidden from her.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Who are you?" he retorted.

Mature.

She turned and put her hands on her hips, eyebrow cocked. "Look, I don't care if you're Dante's little pet housekeeper… I am looking for him. I've got business for him." she snapped.

Leto's brows drew down and he folded his arms over his chest. "He's not here." he snapped back.

Lady pinched the bridge of her nose. "Look, just tell him Lady came by." she said.

"I don't know, I don't think I could remember all that. I'm just a pet housekeeper after all." he said, feigning unintelligence.

Lady set her jaw. "I'll just come by later." she said and turned, walking to the door.

Leto wasn't sorry to see her go. "What a bitch." he mumbled and slid off Dante's desk.

"I agree."

Leto whirled around, his heart pounding. He hadn't heard the door open again. But when he saw who it was, he smiled. "Dante…" he breathed.

Dante grinned and walked up to Leto, wrapping his arms around him.

Leto thumped his chest. "Make some noise eh? You scared the shit outta me." he complained, but was content enough to lay his head on the devil hunter's shoulder. "You're back." he said softly.

Dante hummed. "I said I'd be didn't I?" he said.

Leto snorted and disentangled himself from Dante. "You didn't bring the pie or the case of beer." he said and folded his arms over his chest.

The devil hunter chuckled and reached into his jacket. Leto would have been amazed if he pulled a pie and a case of beer out of it, but his heart beat that much quicker when Dante pulled out a rose instead. This must have been one of those 'romantic Dante' times and Leto had learned not to question them.

"Found it in some shithole… reminded me of you." Dante said and gestured for Leto to take it.

Leto took the rose from Dante, their fingers brushing. The man had even removed the thorns from it. He slowly rotated the rose, studying it and trying not to feel like a moonstruck woman.

"Go put it in some water." Dante said and Leto obeyed without question.

Dante didn't own any vases, which was sort of expected, so Leto laid the rose on the kitchen table and searched the room for something that could hold water and support the rose. In the end, he rinsed out a beer bottle and filled it with water. It made him laugh, to see the rose resting in the beer bottle, but he figured it was appropriate.

When he walked back into the room, Dante wasn't there. Leto sighed and leaned on the desk. "Dante?" he called.

"Up here." Dante answered and Leto sighed in relief. He climbed the stairs and leaned in the doorway of Dante's bedroom.

Dante was sitting on the bed, his jacket draped over the bedpost. Nothing screamed 'come here' more than a shirtless Dante seated on the edge of his bed. He didn't need to beckon Leto, the younger man just drifted to him.

Leto settled himself in Dante's lap, his knees resting on the mattress, his arms wrapped loosely around Dante's neck. Dante's hands slid up Leto's bare back, making him shiver.

The devil hunter watched as Leto closed his eyes, worrying at his bottom lip with his teeth. Dante's fingers brushed the tattoo on Leto's shoulder, which was that of a raven flying through a crescent moon. He had yet to question its significance, but tonight wasn't going to be the night. He gripped the back of Leto's neck and pulled him down into a kiss.

It was a fiercer kiss than either of them intended. Their teeth clicked, their tongues sliding over one another as they exchanged heated breath. Dante moaned as Leto sucked on his tongue and when he got the chance, he caught Leto's bottom lip between his teeth. Leto whined as Dante sucked his lip, bruising it.

They parted for fresh air and Dante drew his thumb over the redhead's swollen lips.

Hooking an arm under Leto's ass, Dante stood, lifting the other man with ease.

It was a heady feeling, being picked up, but Leto didn't get to bask in Dante's strength for too long.

Dante pressed Leto down against the mattress and settled himself between the redhead's legs. Leto hooked his heels on the back of Dante's thighs and pushed up as Dante pushed down. The friction pried a grunt from both men.

Dante tangled his fingers in Leto's hair and pulled his head back, his grip tight. He slid his tongue up Leto's pale flesh, right along his jugular vein. Leto moaned, burying his hands in Dante's hair. The devil hunter didn't look up as he disentangled Leto's hands from his hair and pinned both of his wrists with one hand.

Leto was no weakling, but Dante was no ordinary man.

Just a little alarmed, Leto made a disgruntled noise that Dante ignored in favor of sucking the sensitive skin behind Leto's ear.

It was no use, trying to turn his head, what with Dante's iron grip in his hair.

"Dante!" he hissed and the devil hunter looked up.

"What?" he asked, just a little irritated.

"I don't like being pinned, you know that." Leto said, flexing his hands.

Dante sighed. "I forgot, sorry." he said, releasing Leto's hands and hair.

Leto, not wanting to ruin the mood, leaned up and kissed Dante's jaw. "It's okay." he murmured against the man's flesh.

Dante slid a hand up Leto's stomach, grasping one of the man's pecs squeezing it.

Leto would never admit how much he liked having his chest squeezed.

Dante's other hand gripped Leto's hip. He rolled his hips, groaning as Leto bucked against him. Doubling over, he took one of Leto's nipples into his mouth, rolling the other between his forefinger and thumb as he rocked against Leto.

Leto arched against Dante, leaning his head back, his teeth clenched. He didn't realize he was holding his breath until he puffed it out, gasping as Dante switched his attention from one nipple to the other, switching hands on Leto's hip.

They were wearing far too many clothes for this.

Leto threaded his arms under Dante's and slid his hands down Dante's back, down past his waistband. He grasped a handful of Dante's ass with each hand and thanked God that Dante didn't wear underwear (or pants that fit).

Dante pressed his face into Leto's neck, his other hand drifting down to grip Leto's hip as they rocked against each other.

The only sound to be heard was their heavy breathing and the creak of the bed.

Leto broke first. "Dante, I can't… pants…" he said. It was unintelligible, really, but Dante understood, undoing Leto's pants and tugging them, along with his briefs, down around his thighs. Leto was about to question why Dante had stopped when he felt the other man's spit slicked fingers sliding against his hole.

As Dante slid his fingers into Leto, he grabbed hold of his cock, which had been weeping precum onto the redhead's belly.

Leto's fingers were tangled in the sheets as Dante wrenched moans and gasps out of him. "Dante!" he gasped.

"What?" Dante asked, distracted.

"Fuck me."

"Where's the lube?"

"In the top drawer."

Leto groaned as Dante slid his fingers out of him and let go of his cock. He took the time to kick his pants and briefs off before Dante came back. The devil hunter tossed the lube on the bed and leaned on the bed, kicking his shoes off and dropping his pants.

Finally naked, Dante climbed on the bed and hovered over Leto. "Hands and knees." he ordered, grabbing the bottle of lube.

Leto obeyed, eagerly.

Leto had such a perfect ass. Dante slid a hand down a cheek and grabbed it, squeezing before he bumped him closer to the headboard.

Leto grunted in irritation and moved closer to the headboard. He hissed out a breath as he felt the cool jelly against his hole.

Dante dipped one finger, then two… then three. He reached around Leto and grabbed his cock, pumping it slowly.

"Dante!" Leto snapped and slammed a fist against the headboard.

"Shush up princess, I'm getting there." Dante teased and let go of Leto to slick himself up. He hitched Leto's hips up once he was done and pushed into him.

"Shit! Ah— Go slow!" Leto cried, hanging his head between his arms, teeth gritted.

Dante ignored him and buried himself in Leto.

"Dante! FUCK!" Leto whined, digging his fingers into the sheets.

Dante shushed him and wrapped his arms around Leto. His grip was solid, not tight, and when he started moving, the initial burning sting of penetration was overwhelmed by the pleasure of being filled. Dante was so big; he didn't have to try hard to rub against anything inside of Leto.

It had taken a long time for Leto to look forward to being fucked, but Dante had managed to get the redhead to like being stretched and filled.

That didn't mean it didn't hurt, it just meant that Leto had learned to take the pain and wait for the pleasure.

Leto grunted as Dante moved. At first it was gentle rocking, and it felt good. Leto's grunts became sighs.

Dante sped up his pace, roughened it, growling as he started to squeeze Leto.

Leto let out panicked breaths as Dante lifted him off his hands, squeezing him tighter, like some sort of boa. His hands went to the man's arms, trying to pry them off, but they were like bands of steel.

And then he was at the right angle for Dante to—"Oh God!" Leto cried. He gasped for air, but Dante's arms made it so hard to breathe. Why did it feel so good? He couldn't even talk anymore, he just made loud breathy noises that resembled speech.

But Dante knew what language he was speaking, his hips never stopping, his own legs tense as he braced against Leto.

The redhead was forced to grab hold of the headboard as Dante leaned into him. His eyes were tightly shut and his brow furrowed. He was almost there. So close. He couldn't breathe.

Then Dante suddenly released his torso in favor of Leto's hips and, coupled with the sweet lungfuls of air and the sudden ferocity of Dante's pace, Leto came.

His cries were doubly as breathy and higher than usual.

Dante pulled out, causing Leto to groan, and flipped the redhead over, pressing him down into the mattress.

He had his knees on either side of the younger man's head and a look in his eye that told Leto he'd be choking on devil-hunter monster cock today.

It wasn't all bad.

Dante cradled Leto's head in both his hands and groaned when the younger man fit about half his dick in his mouth without provocation. Holding his head steady, he rocked his hips, forcing a bit more of his cock in Leto's mouth.

Leto closed his eyes and held his breath.

Dante had been close when he'd pulled out of Leto to begin with, and didn't have far to go when he pushed himself into Leto's mouth.

Leto knew Dante was close when he stopped pulling back, his thrusts becoming shallower and shallower. The redhead was at the limit of how long he could hold his breath when Dante shouted, spilling cum into his throat and mouth.

The devil hunter jerked a couple times, leaning forward. His brows were furrowed and he had his bottom lip between his teeth.

If Leto had opened his eyes, he would have been privy to that wonderful expression. Instead, Leto pushed Dante off of him and turned his head to the side, coughing and gasping, spitting up whatever was in his mouth. Normally he swallowed but… it was all down his throat and he couldn't breathe.

While Leto struggled to catch his breath, Dante got up and left the room. He came back moments later with a towel and pushed Leto on his back, wiping him down, starting with his face. He wiped the bed down and, using a corner, wiped down his cock before he threw the towel in the corner.

"You alright?" Dante asked.

Leto smirked. "Why? Concerned you just might have killed me that time?" he shot back.

Dante called him a shithead and climbed on the bed, laying down next to him. Leto turned so that he could press his face in Dante's neck, grunting in content as the devil hunter allowed him to thread a leg through his thighs.

They didn't tell each other goodnight, they just fell asleep. Any night after an orgasm was a good night. For Leto, any night spent lying in Dante's company was a great night.


	2. Lacey

**Note: **There is some heterosexual sex in this chapter. Sorry if that bothers anyone. Also, the gun that Leto owns is a Glock 31. I'm not an expert in guns, so I tried to describe his dealing with it as little as possible. But I did look up its mechanics, and it's safety is on the trigger, you have to flick it up. That's the extent of my gun knowledge.

Also, I do not like the word: pussy. If I could get suggestions about how to describe the female genitalia in a simple but hot way, I'd love it. Oh and I like the word breasts and tits, so no problem there. (:

Oh and the following is a dream/memory. Anything in Italics would be a dream/memory.

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><p><em>They were all hanging out in front of a bar. It was a shithole, the kind of bar that inspired meanness in its customers and a lack of propriety. The guys hanging out front never really went in. It smelled like piss in there. They had been hanging out in front of the bar for fifteen minutes when Diego, the Latino of their group started getting hyped up. Leto, the redhead, rose his brows at Diego. <em>

"_What's up Diego?" he asked._

"_What's his deal?" Diego responded, gesturing at the white haired man that was leaning on the wall across from them. "If he don't stop staring, I'm gonna cut his ass."_

_That was when Leto turned to have a good look at the white haired man. He was startled to see that the man was staring at him. Right at him, those pale blue eyes glued to him, an amused smirk on his face. _

_That was when Leto got annoyed. _

"_Leto he's staring at you, bro." Yoyo said. He was the Asian on Leto's left._

_Leto wasn't the biggest out of all of them (that was Rush, the tall black one), and he wasn't the leader (that was Cale, the blond that was sitting on the fence, trying his best to look nonchalant), but he was certainly the meanest. He was also the best looking. _

_His long red hair was piled up on the back of his head in a messy tail, some of it braided, most of it loose. Earrings dotted his ears, ranging from tame to strange. There were a collection of bracelets on his arms and rings on his fingers. His sleeveless shirt was open, giving the white haired man a good view of his well-toned chest, but the man's eyes were on Leto's face. _

_Leto was handsome, a rarity in these parts. He just didn't have that street punk look, no matter how hard he tried, with his collection of chains and his perfected "what the fuck is your problem?" expression. His lashes were just too long, and they were red like his hair, which made the white haired man think that maybe that color was natural on Leto. His nose was too straight, his lips were too plump. He had an angular face that just didn't have that beaten, thick look that seemed common among the street punks. He didn't even have any lingering bruises or scars on his face. _

_Leto finally got annoyed enough to approach the white haired bastard. _

"_You got a problem?"_

"_No problem…"_

"_Then what the fuck do you want?"_

"_You."_

"_I'm not a prostitute, guy."_

"_Never said you were."_

"_Then what the fuck do you want from me?"_

"_You gonna be a street punk all your life?"_

"_No, but what the fuck you want with me?"_

"_Need someone to mind the office…"_

"_Bullshit. What else?"_

_The white haired man grinned. It was the sort of grin that turned Leto's tough insides to jelly. _

"_What do you think?"_

"_I'm not a prostitute."_

"_We had this conversation before."_

_The white haired man leaned forward and murmured something into Leto's ear that turned him as bright red as his hair. _

"_That's fuckin' impossible."_

"_It isn't."_

"_It is."_

_The white haired man rolled his eyes. "It isn't and when I show you it isn't you're not going to want to be a street punk anymore."_

_Leto's gang watched as he walked off with the white haired man. _

_Once out of sight, the white haired man grabbed hold of Leto. He was stronger than Leto realized. It turned him on. _

"_Dante," he murmured against the shell of Leto's ear "That's my name."_

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><p>Leto opened his eyes, aware of a change. He rolled on his side, his hand exploring an empty space of bed. He sighed. Dante usually left when he was sleeping, or right after sex, and it was annoying. He thought that maybe it was so that the devil hunter didn't have to talk too much about himself. It was almost unfair how Dante could so easily get him on his back, or his hands and knees, and not have to work for it at all.<p>

To be honest, Leto felt slutty.

But there were those times that he and Dante sat around drinking beer, eating pizza and bullshitting. Not that he minded the sex, but it made him feel better when Dante talked to him like he was another man. Leto was not effeminate. He didn't like to feel like he was a pretty face and a nice piece of ass for a very busy man.

He dared to think that maybe he was a friend, if anything.

He floundered, fighting the sheets off, and rolled out of bed. It stank like sex and unwashed man in the room. He wrinkled his nose.

"Gotta clean this place." he murmured to himself.

He would remind Dante to get some clean sheets. The ones on the bed were going in the trash. Neither man knew how to wash clothes, nor felt the need to learn. There was a laundry service that catered to Dante, specifically, and the folks at the place knew Leto. He'd been around for some time now… but that didn't mean he wanted them to wash sheets stained heavily from sex.

Some things were just better off left behind closed doors.

He pulled on a pair of shorts and slipped on his boots before he stripped the sheets off the bed, rolling them up and tucking them under an arm.

He jogged downstairs, and dumped the soiled sheets over the rail, heading for the kitchen. He was starving. After all, he hadn't eaten yesterday. Beer didn't really count as 'food'.

Leto looked in the fridge and sighed. There was nothing in there save a carton of eggs, a jug of water and a block of cheese.

Pathetic really.

Neither Dante nor Leto was what one would call a cook.

Even so, the sink was piled with dishes and the stove was a collection of dirty pots and pans. Leto groaned loudly. He had told Dante when they first met that he hated cleaning, but here he was cleaning.

He grabbed dishes from the sink, stacking them on the shitty little table behind him. Once Leto could maneuver the faucet, he stopped fishing dishes out of the sink and turned the water on. It came out brown for about a minute before clearing up some.

As he washed dishes, he thought about last night. It was always odd when Dante decided to really give a shit about romance. The rose was a nice surprise, not that Leto liked flowers or anything. Leto wasn't complaining, he just wished for some consistency.

Finished with the dishes (his hands pruny from being in the water for over an hour) he turned from the sink to see an amused Dante leaning on the wall. He flinched and sighed loudly.

"You're a fuckhead."

"Morning Red."

"Morning Red my ass."

Dante chuckled and headed out of the kitchen. "Stop being so bitchy and come out. I brought the beer and pizza you wanted." he said. He walked to the couch, pushing the soiled sheets off of it and draped himself across it, the pie on the seat next to him.

Leto followed the hunter, snatching up the pie before Dante could grab his slice. "Why thank you, I do believe this is a good enough 'I'm sorry'." he said and sat down across from Dante, grabbing a slice and eating it in three bites, the grease running down his chin and hand.

Dante reached over and snatched the box back, grabbing his slice and grabbing a beer from the case at his feet, offering it to Leto. Leto took it with murmured thanks and stuffed the crust into his mouth. Seeing as the sheets were going in the garbage, he wiped his chin and hands with them.

There was a long silence, interrupted only by the sounds of eating and drinking. It seemed that both men had been starving.

"Need new sheets… and a microwave or some shit. Don't you make some kind of money? How the hell can't you afford a microwave? Or a working television?" Leto complained.

Dante sighed. "Are you going to bitch at me every time I walk in with a pie and a case?" he asked.

Leto sighed. "No." he answered and laid back against the couch, his arm dangling off of it, his fingers wrapped around the neck of the bottle.

"What's wrong Red?" Dante asked, tossing his crust into the box.

"It gets old, Dante. You come around, we fuck, you leave, I stay." Leto said and looked over at the devil hunter. "There's nothing to do while you're gone besides picking up after you. And I already told you I don't like cleaning. I'm not a maid." he said and shot Dante a withering look, which froze the smartass comment that had almost come out of his mouth. "I'm fucking bored Dante."

Dante sighed. "We could always hang at that strip joint in town, the one with the decent looking girls." he said.

Leto grinned. "Now that sounds fun." he said and sat up. "It's the one with the girl they call Songbird?"

Dante nodded. "Why, you like her?" he asked, grinning.

"So what if I do?" Leto said and reached for the box. Dante usually left a crust or two, and Leto usually ate them.

Dante laughed. "Get showered and we'll go" he said. He watched with a smile as Leto jumped up and over the couch, heading up the stairs to grab a towel. "Might want to hurry. I'm late on the water bill" he said.

Leto responded with something nasty and thundered down the stairs, slapping Dante upside the head before heading to the bathroom.

Dante was always late on some payment or another. Leto quickly learned that the man was up to his white hair in debt. It was usually why there was no food in the fridge, no hot water, no heat and no clean laundry. Dante paid the electric and phone bills religiously, though. With all the debt he was in, Leto wondered how much Dante got paid for slaying demons. It couldn't have possibly been very much… unless he spent his money on other things. It wouldn't surprise him. It seemed like Dante's pockets were sieves when it came to money. It just went.

While Dante waited for Leto to get out of the shower, he wandered around his office/home lost in thought. There had been an increase in demon activity lately, and while he was no Sherlock Holmes, he knew that an increase in demon activity meant someone was stirring them up, or a Big Daddy Demon had popped up somewhere.

He was in the kitchen when he noticed something out of place.

"Leto!" he called, the bottle housing the rose in his hand.

Leto rolled his eyes and stuck his head out of the shower. "What?" he shouted back.

"Why is there a rose in a beer bottle?" Dante asked.

Leto's brow furrowed. "You gave it to me, jackass. You told me to put it in water. Sorry we don't have any vases" he said, the sarcasm not lost on Dante (who was full of sarcasm himself).

"I didn't give…" Dante started then paused, an awful realization dawning on him. "When did I give you it?" he asked instead.

Leto sighed. "Last night" he shouted back.

"What did we do last night?" Dante asked, staring at the flower with a hatred it really didn't deserve.

"You're kidding right? What are we playing, twenty-one questions?" Leto asked, getting annoyed with the line of questioning. He was not the kind that liked to stroke men's egos (that wasn't his own).

The bottle shattered in Dante's hand, the water splattering on Dante and wetting the floor. The rose itself was in Dante's hand. He clenched the stem with a lot less force than what he used with the bottle and walked over to his desk.

"Anybody else come over?" he asked, opening up his desk and stuffing the flower in the drawer before shutting it with more force than was necessary.

"…just you and that chick with the bad attitude and big mouth" Leto replied, coming out and drying his hair.

Lady, she only came around when she had a mission she thought was best suited for a half-devil.

"What did she say?" he asked, going to check on his weaponry.

Leto watched Dante walk around and felt his stomach sink. "She had something for you… said she wanted to talk to you."

Dante paused, his hand wrapped around the hilt of Rebellion. "Red…" he started, turning around but Leto had his back to the devil hunter.

"Just go. I'll go to the strip joint my damn self… not like you got money to spend on strippers anyway." Leto said and headed upstairs to get a shirt and his keys. When he left, he had to lock up the place if Dante wasn't around (and Dante wouldn't be around). After all, the urchins of the city would rob the place clean if he didn't.

Dante watched Leto go and sighed. It was harder than he thought, keeping a lover around. It was like Fate saw that he was getting comfortable, and decided to throw a couple hurdles his way. If it wasn't increased demon activity taking him away from Leto, then it was his brother boning Leto disguised as Dante when said demon activity had him out and about.

Speaking of Vergil… the recent increase of demon activity could only mean he was around, and Lady would most likely have pinned the epicenter of it. She, however, wouldn't know that it was Vergil making the demons hyperactive.

He was lost in thought when Leto came back downstairs, a leather jacket thrown over his shoulders, his shirt opened to the third button.

"You fucking leaving or what?" Leto asked him impatiently.

Dante looked to Leto and grabbed him by the chin. "Next time I come around acting all lovey dovey with flowers and shit, do me a favor and tell me 'Fuck you Vergil', then kick my ass out." he said and kissed Leto deeply.

The redhead forgot that he was supposed to be angry at Dante for ditching him again. He rested his hands on Dante's hips and deepened the kiss. It was Dante that pulled away first.

"You can do that for me, Red?" he asked.

Leto sighed. "You'd better come back in a thong." he teased and walked away from Dante, leaning on the door. "Yeah I can do that… why am I doing that though?" he asked.

"I'll tell you when I get back, I really need to see Lady… she just might go in all by herself, like a stupidass and I'll have to save her again…" Dante said, walking to the door and pushing it open.

Leto watched as the devil hunter got on his bike (which miraculously didn't die on the bastard, despite looking beat to hell). He felt better, despite knowing that Dante was leaving again for a while, it seemed. The woman that had barged in the place looking for him was another devil hunter. That meant that she wasn't one of Dante's girlfriends. That meant that Leto was still Dante's favorite, not that he was worried or anything.

It was a short walk to Lola's, and because the bouncers there knew Dante (and liked him), they let Leto in without frisking him. Good thing too, because Leto was packing heat. There were disgruntled comments from the men waiting to get in, but Leto ignored them, flipping them the bird high above his head before disappearing into the dark, velvety abyss that was Lola's.

The place didn't stink like normal strip-joints. It smelled primarily of women, secondarily of sweet booze. The kind that was ten dollars a (ludicrously small) glass and too easy to knock back in one go. If a man wasn't careful, he'd leave Lola's broke and owing.

Fortunately for Leto, he never came with much money, or the desire to waste it on bitch drinks and gyrating pay-as-you-go girls. Besides, the girls adored him (and Dante, often asking them to kiss so they could get their panties wet) so he really just had to sit there and watch and talk to them. The owner liked Dante too; otherwise she'd give the hunter and Leto problems about chatting up her girls while they were on the clock.

He went over to his favorite table. It was in the corner, right near the curtain where the girls passed to and fro, from the back to the stages. No sooner than he'd seated himself, legs spread wide, a girl came out, walking with confidence toward him. It was Lacey, not Songbird, but Leto wasn't complaining.

Lacey was built to knock men over with a sigh. She was Brazilian; her thick, dark curls rested on her shoulders and sagged down her back. Her waist was small, her chest was ample, her hips were wide and her ass was round and tight enough to bounce a quarter off of it. The best thing about dark Lacey was probably the white star pasties on her large dark nipples and the conveniently placed pasty over her slit, leaving nothing but smooth Brazilian woman for Leto to look at. Her makeup was always done brightly and Leto thought she looked prettier without it, but he kept his mouth shut. The makeup was either mandatory, or Lacey liked it. If she had problems with it, she'd ask the redhead how it looked.

"Oh look, my favorite white boy." she said and stood in front of him, hands on her hips.

Leto grinned. "Hey baby."

"What you want this time? Where's the loud one?" she asked, shoving her curls off one shoulder.

The redhead made a face.

The Brazilian sighed. "He left again?"

Leto nodded.

"You want some loving, baby?" she asked crouching and sliding her hand down the top of his head to fondle his ear.

Leto nodded, pouting his lips.

She grinned, which made Leto grin, and took him by the hand, stepping down from the stage and leading him to the back.

He followed her much like a puppy.

Lacey led the redhead to a large room, much classier than what anyone would expect from a strip joint. There was no velvet, felt, purple, red or any of that in the room. There was just a large, four post bed (with a canopy), with clean (cream colored) sheets. There was a dresser on either side of the bed, each was stocked with anything two lovers might need. One was filled with condoms and lubrication, the other was a minifridge with wine, whipped cream and chocolate syrup in it. There was a table with a few wine glasses on it in front of the large, ornate fire place. A couple chairs ringed the table, and Leto had to wonder exactly whose room they were in.

"Lacey—" he started, but she only smiled and shushed him.

"You know how much the director loves you…" she said in a singsong voice.

Leto raised his brows. "We're in her room?" he asked.

Lacey grinned and backed Leto to the bed, pushing him over.

He landed on his back and didn't get to move before Lacey climbed on the bed on top of him. "Tell me about you two…" Lacey whispered in his ear.

Leto's brows rose. "About… me and Dante?" he asked.

"You humping any other hot white haired guys?" Lacey asked, leaning back and peeling the pasties off her breasts.

Leto struggled to get out of his shirt, hiding his blush effectively. "What do you wanna know?" he asked.

She reached down between her legs and pulled off the pasty on her slit, which was already starting to come off, how wet she was. She was one of the girls that loved to have Dante and Leto together. "Tell me about the last time you had sex…" she said, unbuckling his belt.

Her hands were preventing his hands from getting at his zipper, so he busied them, sliding them up her torso and gripping her soft, heavy breasts. They were more than a handful, and Leto wanted to get his mouth on one of them. He was pushed down, however, when he tried to sit up.

"Tell me" she said, tugging his pants down roughly.

He lifted his hips so that it was easier for her. "Fine, okay" he said, chuckling.

Lacey stared at him, trying to gauge whether or not he was going to tell her the truth or a bullshit lie.

"Just promise not to tell the others, or Dante… I like what I've got going and I don't want to ruin it" he said.

Lacey grinned. "Of course, baby, I won't tell a soul" she said and slid down, between his legs.

Leto widened his legs for her, knees bent. He gasped as she swallowed the entirety of his cock, and it hardened further in her mouth.

"He came… by with a rose the other day" he said, holding his breath when the head of his cock hit the back of her throat and continued on. Lacey's lack of a gag reflex was a damn gift. "And told me to put it in water… oh God Lacey!" he said and reached down to grab handfuls of her dark hair, keeping it away from her face. "When I came back, he was upstairs… and shirtless, sitting on the edge of the bed." He said and hissed, curling his toes into the sheets.

Lacey looked up at him, enjoying his expressions. She had a hand on his thigh; the other was wrapped around the base of his cock. She lapped at the head of his cock, slid her tongue against the tiny slit and tried to push into it.

Leto cried out and tugged on Lacey's hair. She pulled up.

"And?" she asked, prompting him to tell his story.

"So I walked over to him and sat in his lap. We kissed, and it was rough… he growled into my mouth and moaned when I sucked his tongue… then he bit my bottom lip. We only pulled away for air." The velvety feel of her breasts surrounding his cock made him pause, and he groaned as he watched her use her breasts to stroke him. He bit his lip as he watched her roll her nipples between her forefingers and thumbs.

Lacey held in a moan as the tip of his cock slid against her breast bone, all the way up and out from between her breasts, his precum slicking up her skin. "Then?" she asked, her voice husky.

"He picked me up and pressed me down against the mattress." he said and sighed when she stood up, allowing his cock to fall back against his stomach. Leto stared up at her, focusing on her breasts. Her nipples were hard and swollen; her heavy breasts bouncing as she suddenly lowered herself on top of him. She was sliding against him, teasing him, trying to coax out the rest of the story. He contemplated just turning her over and fucking her, but realized the Brazilian woman would probably have him in a chokehold. She was one strong fucking woman, and he didn't feel like being too emasculated today.

"He started grinding into me—" he said and was not rewarded for it.

She stopped, completely and stared him right in the eyes. "Who?" she asked.

He bared his teeth at her. Fucking woman. "Dante." he snarled.

"Say it again." she said and ground down against him, leaning forward so that his cock was pressed against her wet folds. There was something to be said about Lacey's pussy. It was so soft, so hairless, so wet.

Leto groaned. "Dante. Dante ground me into the bed, and I fucking liked it. Begged him to fuck me." he said, all in a rush.

Lacey moaned and reached down between them, angling Leto's cock. She pushed down and he slid in, and for a moment, the both of them experienced a high that had them motionless for just a second or so.

It was Lacey that broke the temporary calm and leaned forward grabbing each of his pecs and squeezing.

Leto moaned as she found his nipples and squeezed them too, rolling them between her fingers.

"More." Lacey commanded, rocking forward to give him some incentive.

Leto kept his hands on her thighs. "Told me to get on my hands and knees, pushed me to the headboard." he panted, fighting the urge to buck up into her. He knew the game Lacey was playing and she'd give him his turn.

Her breasts were in his face, swaying right above his mouth, brushing his chin and nose and he wanted them, so badly, Lacey knew. "Keep talking, baby."

"He pushed his fingers in me, to stretch me. God you know Dante is big. So fucking big…"

"How big?"

"God Lacey… he's so fucking hung…"

"How many fingers?"

"Three."

Lacey moaned, rocking faster, coming down harder on top of him. The sound of their skin slapping together was loud, and Leto could feel her juices running down his cock.

"More Leto!"

"Dante fucked me, Lacey. He fucked me hard…"

Lacey gasped.

"He was inside me, stretching me, filling me and I fucking loved it."

Lacey was bent over, clutching his skin, her nails leaving behind red welts. She was close, he could tell, and when she came, he'd get his turn.

"He had me against the headboard, Lacey. He was fucking me so hard, I couldn't breathe, he was holding me so tight…"

Lacey was making high, breathy noises as she ground her hips against his. She was close, and Leto knew what was going to do it for her.

"I came Lacey, hard…" he said and smirked. "And Dante fucked my face. Turned me over, grabbed my head and stuffed my mouth, fucked my throat, baby."

Lacey moaned loudly, leaning back, dragging her nails down his chest.

"He came down my throat, baby, and I fucking choked on it."

Lacey was what people liked to call a screamer.

Leto didn't mind in the least as she twitched and shuddered on top of him, her scream lingering in his ears even as he rolled on top of her.

Lacey tried not to relax too much, widening her legs for him and digging her hands into his hair. God, his hair was so soft and silky. She wondered how many times Dante tugged on it. That got her to wondering how many times Leto tugged on Dante's hair.

Leto clamped his mouth on Lacey's left breast, fitting as much as he could into his mouth, his other hand grabbing her other breast and squeezing hard. His other hand was on her hip and as he sucked noisily on her breast, he pounded into her, his muscles tightening.

"Leto, baby…" Lacey cooed and moaned, raising her hips for him.

His groan was muffled by her breast and he pulled out just before he came. Leaning back, he grabbed hold of the base of his cock and leaned his head back, groaning again as he came all over her stomach.

Lacey closed her eyes and sighed loudly. "…it's in my bellybutton isn't it?" she asked and Leto laughed breathlessly, sitting back.

"Yeah... it's in the corner of your eye too, and on your neck, and on your breast…" he said and chuckled as she kicked him.

"Clean it up, asshole." she said, fondly.

Leto got up and roamed the room, looking for a towel. He found it in the adjoining bathroom and took the time to clean his dick off in the sink before he came back and wiped her down.

"You didn't leave a ring in the sink did you?" Lacey asked as she sat up.

Leto rolled his eyes. "No. Fuck, what's with you people and sink rings?" he said as he stooped to pick up his pants.

Lacey had found a robe (one that didn't seem proper, as it barely covered her ass, but who was Leto to complain?) and had it belted shut before Leto had his pants on.

He was buckling his belt when the place shuddered. He staggered and braced himself against the bed, looking to Lacey with raised brows. "What the fuck?" he asked.

Lacey shook her head. "I don't know!" she said and went to the door, opening it. She slammed it shut two seconds after looking out. When she turned to Leto, her eyes were wide, a look on her face that Leto had never seen before, fear.

"Lacey, baby, what is it?" he asked, grabbing his jacket off the edge of the bed.

She ran over to him. "Leto we have to get the fuck out of here" she said quietly. She looked around at all the lamps and began to turn them off.

Leto watched her run around, brows raised and strayed over to the door. "Lacey?" he asked and put his ear to the door.

The music wasn't playing. He was about to ask why the director would turn off the music when he heard the first scream.

It wasn't far off either, probably from the next room over.

"Lacey come here!" he snapped and retrieved his gun from inside the jacket.

She stared at him, her eyes widening further (if that was possible) when she spotted the gun.

"Leto?" she asked.

"Shut up, don't scream, and try to keep up baby…" he said and gave her the jacket.

Lacey put it on, proving that she could act in terrifying situations.

Leto held out his hand and she took it. "Kick off those pumps. They're not going to help." he said, his heart trying to beat out of his chest.

Lacey kicked them off without question.

Dante had always said that the city was infested, and Leto never believed him. He wanted to hope that it was just a mob of idiot gangsters, and not the caterwauling, hell-born shitheads Dante often fought.

He swallowed thickly, and gripped Lacey's hand tighter.

"There's a back exit, Leto" she whispered.

"Tell me where to go. And don't scream… whatever you do, don't scream…" he said, but it was almost as though he was trying to convince himself.

Lacey nodded and when Leto threw open the door, the both of them tried very damn hard not to scream, or puke.

All around them, girls and johns were being cut down. Skeletal demons draped in black and red rags with huge sickles were standing over corpses. Blood spattered the walls, and the screams of the fleeing and dying assaulted the pair.

Leto flicked the safety up and kept his finger on the trigger. It seemed like his whole body was tense, but that didn't mean his brain had stopped working. He took off, nearly dragging Lacey behind him. She was breathing shallowly, having forgotten that she was supposed to direct him to the back exit.

"Lacey!" he said, breathlessly as he rounded a corner. He didn't have the balls to look behind them to see if they were being chased.

"Um um… down this hall make a right, run all the way down the hall and out." she said, trying not to think about why her feet were damp.

They ran, and neither ever looked back. Demons didn't jump out at them, but Leto had this feeling that they were right on their asses. Lacey ran forward and shoved the door open, the fire alarm going off as she did so. Leto cursed and grabbed her hand, taking the lead as they ran down the street. If the demons hadn't been following them, they'd know which exit they'd taken now.

They ran down alleyways, Leto leading the way. He knew the streets, and knew all the shortcuts 'home'.

Leto let go of Lacey's hand, flicked the safety back into place and held the gun in his other hand as he fished for keys in his pocket. He was breathing hard, and his heart was pounding. His hands shook as he unlocked the place and the two of them rushed into the place once the door was open.

Leto shut the door and locked it, walking over to Dante's desk quickly. He set the gun down on top of it and walked around the desk to sit in the chair. "Shit." he panted and put his head down, squeezing his eyes shut.

He was not going to cry, especially when he heard Lacey breaking down.

He lifted his head and saw her on the couch, crumpled, her feet bloody (both her own blood and the blood of the victims back at the strip club) and he sighed, getting up and taking a deep breath.

Between the two of them, he was supposed to be the one least fazed, if only because he had to be strong for the both of them.

He went to the bathroom and wet a towel, coming back into the room with the rusty first aid kit held under his arm.

He didn't even think about what would happen if the demons had been following him. He didn't consider that they could have trailed him back to Devil May Cry.

He knelt down in front of her and put her feet in his lap, unconcerned about the blood and debris getting on his pants.

Lacey looked up at him, her bright make-up running down her face.

Leto smiled at her. "Hey babe, don't cry. I got beer." he said.

Lacey snorted and giggled, shaking her head and wiping the tears away as Leto cleaned up her feet. "This place stinks like cornchips and ass." she said.

Leto chuckled. "I know. M'working on it" he said bandaging up her feet.

Lacey bit her lip, and looked down at him. "Leto…" she said but the redhead shook his head.

"No." he said and stood, wiping his hands on the towel. He threw it on the floor on top of the dirty sheets (seriously he needed to put those out) and left the room, heading to the kitchen.

He came back with two beers and handed Lacey one.

The two of them drank in silence.

"The bedroom smells better." Leto said.

Lacey nodded, setting her empty bottle on the ground.

Leto did the same and picked her up. "Upstairs it is" he said and carried her up (with little visible difficulty. In truth, she was a big woman and he thanked God the climb wasn't ridiculous).

They clung to each other once they were in bed, kissing and holding each other for dear life.

There was nothing like a near-death experience to bring tenderness out of people.

Dante would be pissed.


	3. Jealousy

**Note:** Very sorry everyone. Life totally came in the way, and to be honest, I'd have rather been writing than on a sucky vacation. Then family and friends decided that taking up all my time when I got home was acceptable. No matter. Here's the third Chapter of Leto. It's a lot of story, not so much smut. You get your first taste of my version of Vergil. Have fun. The lines are my way of not confusing you. They are either a change in perspective or character. I thought it'd be better for you, as the reader. Enjoy.

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><p>The bike broke down only after Dante had gotten within a mile of Lady's place. He considered punching it until it worked, but as evidenced with his jukebox, that was a onetime deal, and it wasn't even guaranteed that it would work. So, instead, Dante hauled the piece of junk up on his shoulder and carried it to Lady's place.<p>

Lady resided in the basement apartment of a three story building. Her landlord was a nice old lady whose husband died ten years ago and whose sons checked in on her every weekend. She had a live-in aide too.

Of course, Dante knew all that about her because sometimes he'd been stuck outside waiting for Lady and her landlord had seen fit to invite Dante inside and talk his ear off.

Dante had taken down all manners of demon scum in his day, but they were nothing compared to a sweet old lady. He was putty in her hands, completely vulnerable and unable to be an ass. Today, while Dante was standing outside Lady's building, his junky bike resting in the street, the old lady saw him from her window. Dante smiled at her and sighed inwardly.

He should have hidden.

Her aide, Penn, opened the door. He was a tall man, broad, with gentle eyes and dexterous hands. The brown haired aide leaned in the doorway, a smile on his face. "Ms. June wants to talk to you about this redhead you've got living with you." he said.

Dante glared at Lady's basement door. How could she tell her? The bitch.

Lady was just as weak with the old lady as Dante was. It was something in her manner, but… well she was such a nice old woman, and treated them like her children. Dante guessed that he and Lady were sad little hunters looking for a parent in an old lady, and she was happy enough to act the part.

He nodded. "Don't look so damn happy, Penn." Dante snapped as he walked up the three small steps to Ms. June's door. Her name was June Rothchilde, but everyone called her Ms. June. She liked it better that way.

Ms. June's house didn't smell like old lady. It smelled like cookies and perfume. Sure there were doilies everywhere and pictures smothering her mantelpiece. She was an old lady, and a girly one at that. The only time Dante ever saw Ms. June in pants was that time he caught her gardening. She'd been wearing overalls.

There was a plate filled with small butter cookies, a pot of tea resting atop a platter alongside four dainty looking tea cups.

"Dante!" Ms. June cried upon walking into the room. In her hands was a plate with an omelet sandwich on it.

Dante smiled, his heart melting for her. She'd sent Penn out to open the door while she prepared him something to eat. He hoped that nothing happened to the old woman before she passed away. If she could just be one soul that demons never bothered, Dante would be happy. "My love!" he cried and threw his arms out wide.

Penn put a hand on his shoulder. "Hold your horses Romeo, she's a lady" he said.

Ms. June chuckled. "Oh Penn, Dante… have a seat. Here, eat this. I hear your refrigerator is pathetically empty" she said, handing him the plate before slowly seating herself.

She waited for Dante to wolf down the omelet before she questioned him about Leto.

"Lady tells me you have a sassy redhead at home."

Flat-out, that's how Ms. June was. She didn't believe in beating around the bush.

Dante tried not to choke on the rest of the egg as it went down. "Yeah? What'd she say?" he asked, wanting to know how much he would have to explain.

"Said he was a pain, and pretty handsome." she said.

There was always this look that Ms. June got when she thought something was a little… abnormal. It wasn't a look that Dante enjoyed. He had had problems trying to convince the old woman that he and Lady were in the pest extermination business. While it was true, that didn't mean that they'd told her what kind of pests they exterminated. Dante hated misleading the old lady, but he'd have to, to avoid the consequences the truth could bring about.

Ms. June had had children before, and had watched nieces and nephews and grandchildren. In short, Ms. June knew exactly when someone was going to lie to her.

"Need someone to mind the office, and he takes care of the place, so I figure he can live there…" Dante said and shrugged his shoulder. He thought he'd managed to sound as nonchalant as he could about it.

Ms. June just nodded, but both she and Penn knew better. Instead, she smiled and, like with Dante's lie about being an exterminator accepted what he told her. "Want me to call Lady? She's probably listening to her music again." she said, the frown on her face telling Dante exactly what Ms. June thought of Lady's music.

To be honest, he thought what she listened to was trash too.

While Ms. June busied herself calling Lady, Dante stood and carried his plate to the kitchen. Penn peeled off after him. After Dante set the plate in the sink, it came as no surprise to him that Penn blocked his way out when he turned to leave.

"What?"

"You know what."

"Nothing's going to happen to Ms. June—"

"And how can you be sure of that, Devil hunter?"

Dante's brows furrowed and he stared at Penn, noting things he hadn't paid attention to before.

Penn was big and muscular, with scars on his hands that didn't look as if anything earthly had made them. His eyes were a shade of brown too light to be normal and he seemed too quick on his feet for a guy his size.

"You… retired, big guy?"

"I was never a hunter."

Dante sighed. Things were never easy. He made to reach for one of his guns and the big man growled.

Like a dog.

"You're a Guardian." Dante said incredulously, moving his hand away from his gun. "Is June—"

"None of your business." Penn interrupted. "I was connected to her since birth. She's only known me as Penn for the last fifteen years. Her family dog ran away when she was little, her subsequent dog was hit by a car and the dog after that died of old age…"

Dante lifted his brows. The Guardian was clever. In order to protect his charge, he'd deceived her time and time again. She probably thought he was nothing but a nice young man who'd been hired by her family to take care of her. Which meant—"Her family knows."

Penn nodded.

Dante grunted, but whatever he was going to say next remained unsaid as Ms. June walked into the kitchen, pushing Penn aside as though he didn't weigh close to three hundred pounds.

"She said to get downstairs, not as nicely, mind you." Ms. June said, clearly amused with the dynamic between Dante and Lady.

Dante grinned and pecked Ms. June on the cheek, which earned a glare from Penn. "I'll be back again, Ms. June" he said and left, admittedly a bit relieved.

Once outside, he breathed a sigh of relief and jogged down the stairs, where Lady was waiting for him.

"You're late."

"You're ugly."

"Mature."

Dante grinned and put his hands behind his head. "So, what's the urgent message?" he asked.

Lady looked to his broken down bike and back at Dante before answering. "There's some major demon activity exactly south of where the Temen Ni Gru once stood." she said.

Dante could see the chill go up the woman's spine at the mention of the demon tower's name. Her father had been part of its resurrection, and had foolishly thought he could claim the powers of Sparda for himself. Dante and Vergil, together, had slain the delusional man, and had gone on to fight one another for what seemed a last time before the gate to the demon world closed, taking the damned tower with it.

"Exactly south? What's exactly south of it?" he asked.

"An old manor, left in disrepair but occupied, if the rumors are true." she said.

It was always a mansion. A creepy old mansion with creepy old statues and deserted rooms with creepy fucking dolls. Dante hated dolls.

"Are we talking Leviathan major or clusterfuck major?" he asked, already hating the idea of fighting in a creepy old mansion with creepy little dolls.

Lady didn't know what Dante had against dolls, but he hated them with a passion and always told her that any creepy mansion had a doll room and that was why he hated them, otherwise he and creepy old mansions would be best buds, like with graveyards.

"It's the dolls isn't it?" she asked.

Dante chose to ignore that in favor of walking to her bike. "Well, mine's busted, so you're driving." he said and straddled her bike, leaving enough room for her to get on in front.

Lady wasted no time. "It's clusterfuck major" she informed him as she straddled the bike, resting back against Dante a bit too comfortably to her own liking. A stab of jealousy went through her at the memory of the redhead he kept at Devil May Cry.

He circled an arm around Lady's tiny waist and leaned forward. If he felt the shiver that went down Lady's spine at the feel of his rock hard torso against her back, he said nothing.

"Gogogo" he urged.

Lady rolled her eyes and started up her bike. She revved twice and sped off, leaving a cloud of dust behind her.

She knew that Dante wanted her to drive faster, take suicidal shortcuts, maybe even pop a wheelie, but he always seemed to forget that if they crashed, he was the only one that was going to walk out of it. Dante was half devil, and lived like living was going out of style. He did everything and anything to its fullest. He never did anything half assed unless it was paying his bills or keeping up a relationship. It was almost as though he was suicidal.

There was a phrase for his style of living. It was called devil-may-care. How fitting.

Dante was a good friend, that was a given. He always helped when you needed his help. He was a fantastic drinking buddy, but God if he wasn't the worst man to get involved with.

"Lady, hey, Sugar—"

"You finish that and I'm dumping you off this bike."

"That's the third time I'm calling you."

"Well, what is it?"

"We need to talk after we get to this mansion."

The seriousness in his voice was uncharacteristic of him and Lady took her eyes off the road to look back at him, but he'd already banished the attitude and looked happy to be riding at breakneck speed.

She sighed and sped up.

* * *

><p>The mansion was a creepy, derelict thing, rising out of its tangled grounds like a headstone. The wrought iron gate surrounding the property had vines growing on it, and the chains on the front gate seemed to be rusted.<p>

Dante looked to Lady, then back to the old place and sighed exaggeratedly.

"They always look like this. Why can't I ever get a place that looks like it's seen a decent mopping?"

"Stop complaining, you love it."

Dante grinned. He did love it. The creepier it was, the more demons seemed to infest it, and damn if Dante didn't love slaying demons. One day he'd find the bastard that ordered the hit on his mom. He'd find the assholes that corrupted his brother.

He looked away from the building and down at Lady.

"There's certain shit you don't tell Ms. June."

Lady sighed.

"I didn't say you had a man at your place."

"Doesn't matter. You shouldn't have said anything."

"Why? What's so bad about—"

"It's my business, Lady. That's what so bad."

Lady rolled her eyes, folding her arms over her chest and turning her gaze upon the mansion.

"Whatever. Let's just get this done."

"There's a problem concerning my redhead anyway."

Lady looked to him, stomping down the hope that he'd kick the slut out.

"What's that?"

She sounded a bit too eager to find out.

"Vergil thinks sharing is caring."

And with that, Dante pushed the gate open, as though it wasn't chained and locked. Rusted links went flying and the gate made a hideously loud groaning sound.

"Vergil?" she asked, following him. "But I thought—"

"So did I. Not now." Dante said, cutting her off and ending the conversation before it could get started.

Lady knew that talking about Vergil was a no-no with Dante. The two of them were twins, and Dante had such a bleeding heart when it came to his brother. Sure he talked shit about fighting Vergil to the death, but he always pulled his punches, hoping his brother would come to his senses.

But he never did.

Whereas Dante embraced his humanity and scorned his devil half, Vergil scorned his humanity and embraced his devil half.

The two brothers really cared about each other. So much that they thought they needed to beat the tar out of one another for either of them to see the other's point.

Men were idiots.

* * *

><p>Dante had broken down the front door, so very politely, and had proceeded to head down the creepily silent halls.<p>

Lady followed him, gun in hand, cautiously listening for sounds other than Dante's footfalls.

She watched him walk. His gait was a confident swagger that just couldn't be replicated by a normal man.

This confident bastard with a body to die for and looks to kill. This white haired piece of shit that could get into your pants with a few bold words and the right expression. And for all his charm and luck with women… he was living with a fucking man.

Her hand clenched around the grip of her gun.

She'd shot him in the head twice. The bastard had just spat out the bullet and rubbed out the closing wound.

It had pissed him off though.

Then again, Dante didn't stay pissed at anyone for too long.

She'd been so focused in her own thoughts that she didn't even notice that Dante had stopped. She bumped into his back, which caused the devil hunter to look over his shoulder with a smirk.

"Head in the clouds?"

Lady made a rude noise.

"Why did you stop?"

Dante squinted, looking ahead.

"There's a fork in the road."

"Seriously, Dante."

"There is. The hallway ends and it splits off. One way going east. One way going west."

"So we have to split up?"

"Bingo."

She rolled her eyes. "I'll go west" she said and walked past him, her hips swaying effortlessly.

Dante watched her walk off, missing not a movement of those hips until she was well out of sight. "Methinks she's jealous." he said to himself, and smiled before heading down the east hall.

* * *

><p>The room was dark, with the curtains drawn and the door closed. The only source of light was the flickering flame of a candle, almost at the end of its waxy life.<p>

In front of the bed, with his back to it, was Vergil. He was dressing himself carefully, with the sort of attention and neatness that only a man as formal as Vergil could have afforded.

Brown eyes were trained on Vergil's wide back.

Vergil knew that his bedmate was awake, but he was not going to break the silence. Vergil had remarkable control where most people didn't. He could do things with a bland look on his face, as though he couldn't care. The only time he expressed himself was in bed, and his brown eyed companion knew this.

It was probably why his stomach was churning at the moment.

The Spaniard pushed himself up on one elbow, his thick, black hair falling over his shoulder. He couldn't hear it, but Vergil could hear the rasp of his hair against his soft, tan skin. He could hear his heart thudding in his chest, his breathing, no longer deep and slow. He could smell the tan man. The room stank like sex, but the Spaniard smelled like a mixture of musk and blood.

Vergil closed his eyes as he inhaled.

"Vergil…"

"Yes Argent?"

"Where are you going?"

"To greet our guests."

Argent sat up, the sheets sliding off his skin and pooling in his lap.

"Dante."

"And his pet, Lady."

Argent sighed and stood. His naked body was embraced in shadows, and he skirted the glow of the single candle to go to the vanity.

"Why is he here?" he asked, staring at his darkened reflection.

Vergil watched the Spaniard inspect himself, and what the other could barely see, Vergil could see perfectly.

Argent's skin, around his hips, had hand shaped bruises, and Vergil knew there were bruises between his thighs. He had bite marks on his neck and shoulder, but the marks weren't anywhere that clothing couldn't cover.

Vergil watched Argent run his fingers over one of the bite marks on his shoulder, and lingered on the thin scar in the middle of it. Vergil remembered how Argent acquired that scar. It was one of the many times that Argent forgot his place, one of the many times where Argent had tried to hurt Vergil.

Hurt him as bad as he was hurting.

Vergil's eyes moved from Argent's scar to the letter opener on the vanity.

Foolish man.

"I invited him."

Argent turned to look at Vergil. Handsome, cruel Vergil. He hated him, he loved him, and he'd do anything for him. He'd sabotage him too. All to get something out of Vergil. To make him angry, because anger was the only thing Vergil felt outside of sex.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked.

Vergil turned to Argent, fully dressed. His eyes roved over the man's naked, scarred body and he walked over to him, splaying a gloved hand against his broad, muscled chest. His bare fingers slid over the Spaniard's dark nipple.

"I want you to greet his pet. Keep her busy while my brother and I catch up" he said.

He leaned down slowly, their lips just barely touching. Argent's lips parted expectantly.

Vergil's mouth opened, and he bared his teeth, biting down on Argent's plump bottom lip. The hand on Argent's chest pushed him down on the vanity.

The Spaniard pushed at Vergil's head, fingers clutching the man's white hair. His hoarse cries of distress cut through the silence of the room.

Vergil waited until there were tears in Argent's eyes, waited until he could taste blood. He released Argent's lip and the man pushed him away, sliding down to the floor and cupping his mouth, curling up, away from Vergil.

Argent shied away from Vergil as the white haired half devil squatted before him. A hand shot out and clamped like a vice around his chin. Vergil pulled Argent to him and claimed the Spaniard's lips in a bruising kiss. As they parted, Vergil caressed the man's cheek.

"Do as I say, this time."

Vergil rose and left the room, his departure as quiet as a breath of wind.

Argent rose, shakily and pressed his knuckle into each eye, rubbing out the tears that had formed. He licked his bottom lip, flinched, and stared at himself in the mirror.

He'd known since the day he'd gotten involved with Vergil that the man would never stop hurting him, but some hurts he preferred over others. Some hurts were dismissible; others were more than a slap in the face.

He padded to the adjoined bathroom and turned the water on.

Some hurts were forgivable, because it was Vergil being angry, or possessive, or cruel. Some hurts… had nothing to do with Argent, and those were the kind that he hated. The kind that dug deep.

He soaked a rag in the ice cold water, and touched it to his lip.

He would do as Vergil said, he would stall Lady. But not before he met Dante.

Argent had heard Vergil talk of his brother, had heard tales of Dante from other demons. He was hated among the demon community, but loved by Vergil, however much he tried to deny it. Argent wanted to meet a man that could command Vergil's love so effortlessly.

He rinsed the rag two or three times before the bleeding stopped. His lip was swollen and sore, much like the rest of his bruises and bites.

He turned the water on in the tub and laid down in it. The water was ice cold, but what could he expect? The mansion was old, older than the city around it. Vergil would have had to turn on the boiler to get hot water, and as it was, the half devil didn't need hot water. No matter that Argent would have greatly appreciated hot water.

He began to sob as he washed himself, and the sobs turned into hysterical laughter.

He calmed after he was sufficiently clean, and he stood, stepping out of the tub and pulling the plug, allowing the water to drain.

He padded to the armoire and withdrew an outfit, a skintight white affair, complete with gloves and boots. He removed it and laid it on the bed, drying himself with a discarded t-shirt. He would have to clean the room, lest Vergil disapprove of its state of cleanliness.

* * *

><p>Dante stepped over the dissolving bodies of the demons.<p>

Dolls. He fucking hated dolls.

The east wing had been nothing but rooms filled with creepy antiques, ranging from sinister looking statues (which were completely harmless, it turned out) to marionettes and porcelain doll babies, which of course turned out to be possessed.

He didn't try to be stealthy, to hide his approach from any demon waiting in the wings. He wanted them to come out, to find him and dine on demonic steel.

He passed a mirror, stopped walking and backtracked to the mirror.

"What a handsome fellow." he said to his reflection. Something made him turn around to inspect the hall behind him. But it was nothing, so he decided to turn back—A knife thudded into the mirror, zipping past his cheek, drawing a thin line of blood across his cheekbone. The knife quivered where it landed.

Dante immediately turned around and fired into the empty space.

A knife thudded into his arm and he growled, yanking it out and throwing it on the ground.

"Who's bringing knives to a gun fight, hm?" he called out, more than a little annoyed.

"Promise not to shoot?"

Dante whirled around, but no one was there.

"Yeah, why the hell not?" he said, figuring he'd just cleave the fucker in half.

"Turn around."

Dante whirled around again and standing before him was a tall man, dressed all in tight, white leather. From the neck down, not an inch of skin was visible. He was handsome, with thick, dark hair that barely dusted his shoulders and light brown eyes ringed by thick, dark lashes. He had full lips, the lower one a bit swollen, seemingly split. He was mature looking. He didn't look like some young punk. He also had a knife belt around his waist, with a ton of knives in it.

The devil hunter's brows rose.

"You're not what I expected." he said and smirked.

Argent stared at Dante. He looked just like Vergil, but the cruelty wasn't there. He had a confident, asshole smirk on his face, but it was just that. Argent's heart thudded hard in his chest and he looked away from Dante.

It wasn't fair.

The Spaniard gritted his teeth and drew two knives out of his belt, flicking them at Dante with the strength and skill of a man that knew his way, intimately, around knives.

Dante dodged one, the other he deflected with Rebellion.

"Fine, be that way. Don't complain when I pin you to the wall." Dante said and grinned, lunging at the man in white.


	4. Argent

**Note: **Hugely sorry guys. Hugely sorry. This chapter I don't feel is very good, but that's just me. I also am willing to take up suggestions, if you wanna leave them in reviews about what you'd like to see in the next chapter. Ah, I'm not a native Spaniard, so I tried my best at figuring out how to say 'fuck me' in Spanish Spanish. And ah... yes, sorry for the delay, I was procrastinating. I admit it.

* * *

><p>Dante's speed was extraordinary. It was all Argent could do to field away the blow and roll away from the devil hunter. He ducked and dodged Dante's crude thrusts. He was nothing like Vergil. He lacked finesse and grace, but the power was there. Argent could feel it as the tip of Rebellion whistled past his nose.<p>

Dante grunted as the man in white buried a knife in his gut, and snarled as he buried another in his foot, effectively pinning him to the ground. In the time it took Dante to wrench the knives out of his body, the man in white was nowhere to be found.

"Heh. Cold feet." he quipped and tossed the knives.

They landed in the mirror, quivering along with the first knife thrown that day.

That was certainly an odd meeting, but when were Dante's missions ever on the normal side of strange?

The man in white was definitely not a demon. He couldn't be, not as slow as he was reacting, and Dante had been pulling his punches to test him. It seemed like he was used to dodging quick blows, but unused to dodging the speed of a half devil, let alone one like Dante. Though there had been strength in his strikes, they were largely ineffective. After all, only devil arms could put down a devil.

* * *

><p>Lady had roasted roomfuls of demons already, and was on edge. This place seemed to be teeming with demons, all awaiting a poor soul to stumble across them. She wondered what was keeping them tethered to the mansion. If these demons were to stampede out of this place, the red light district was in danger.<p>

"Someone's penning demons here." she murmured to herself.

"Well it's not quite like that."

She whirled around, pointing her gun in front of her.

"Come now. I'm faster than you, I'd put the gun down."

She whirled around her gun aimed at empty air.

"This is fun, and a bit cute. Seriously, put the gun down."

Lady growled. Whoever it was, if it was Vergil, he'd gone to Spain and picked up an accent. "Show yourself." she snapped.

"Promise not to shoot?"

"Fuck you."

Lady had only a split second to react. She rolled out of the way as knives thudded into the wall where she'd been standing. She fired in the direction they had come from, but her answer was another knife. It struck her gun, sending her spray of bullets wide. She tried to pull a gun from her holster, only to have the hilt of a knife strike her hand. She cursed.

"Promise not to shoot?"

Lady growled and holstered her weapon. If this joker tried anything, she'd cram his ass full of shrapnel. She was surprisingly fast with the Kalina Ann.

"Turn around."

She whirled around. Before her was a man dressed all in white, from his neck down, with a knife belt around his waist, stocked with knives. He had dark curly hair that barely dusted his shoulders and light brown eyes ringed by thick lashes. He was tall and broad. It was also evident that he knew his way around a knife.

"What do you want?" Lady snapped.

"I was here to ask you that".

She was counting his knives. Unlike her, his weaponry was limited. Thirty, from what she could see, and she assumed ten more where she couldn't. Forty knives.

"I have more than what you think I do. I'd not try and fight me if I were you."

"But you aren't me."

"I don't need to be to tell you that he'll never care about you as much as he cares about that redhead."

Lady stiffened.

"You're stalling." she said.

The man in white smiled. "You're the sharpest crayon in the box." he teased.

He was already dodging the missile fired by the Kalina Ann before she'd even gotten it over her shoulder and pointed at him. The look of rage on her face was cute, to say the least. It struck no fear in his heart. He kissed the missile as it passed him and landed in a crouch, flicking knives her way. She just barely deflected them with her monster gun.

She was counting, though.

Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen.

She growled when they bit into her skin, drawing crimson lines as they passed and thudded into the wall. She was just quick enough to avoid being stabbed, but not quick enough to avoid being sliced up. Every time she looked at this man in white, he was smiling, already dodging as she raised her guns and fired at him.

Was he a demon too?

Thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two.

He was getting too close. His belt was getting emptier too. She wondered how long he'd be able to keep up a fight with her. Sure he was fast, but without any weapons, all he'd be able to do was dodge. She'd get him.

He was on what Lady thought were his last throwing knives when he unsheathed some nasty looking daggers. Their blades were black and their hilts were ornate. He held them so that their points were faced away from her.

He came at her, despite the fact that both her guns had a full clip in them, and that she was pulling the trigger as fast as she could recover from the recoil.

He blocked her bullets with his blades, the impact jarring his arms, but he could take the pain. He'd experienced worse, but Lady wouldn't know that.

Her teeth were clenched and she was mentally cursing him. He had to be a demon. He was too fast, too strong. She started aiming higher, for his head. So when he ducked and lunged at her, she squeezed the trigger out of reflex.

The man in white grunted, but didn't slow down as he wrestled her to the ground.

She hated his strength.

Lady screamed as he buried a knife in each of her forearms, pinning her to the ground.

"I was going to pin your jacket to the ground… but you had to go and shoot me" he said and looked down at his midsection, frowning as the crimson hole in his white leather oozed blood. He put a hand over it and rose, gritting his teeth. The bullet was still in the wound.

Lady was breathing hard, trying to focus on anything but her wrists. The man in white was bleeding, he looked to be in pain. He was human?

"Buenos dias." he said and dipped his head, touching a hat that wasn't there before walking away.

Demons were still lurking around, but they didn't bother the man in white. He'd proven to them that he had no tolerance for them and their games. He was always faster than them, always stronger.

* * *

><p>He could hear his baby brother coming. He made such noise, which was really unnecessary, considering that the demons he was dealing with were mere grunts. Vergil pushed up off the wall just as Dante burst through the set of double doors at the end of the hall.<p>

"Vergil" he damn near shouted.

Vergil rolled his eyes. "Hello Dante."

Dante holstered his gun and unsheathed his sword. "Don't 'Hello Dante' me, you piece of shit."

Vergil's brows rose. Normally Dante wasn't really angry when they fought. Sure he had this righteous thing about him, and wanted Vergil to stop with all the demon business, but… he was never angry.

"And what's got you so very angry?" Vergil asked.

"What's mine is mine. Not yours."

"Leto."

"Bingo, asshole. You thought I wouldn't find out?"

Vergil controlled his expression. To laugh in his brother's face would be bad form.

"He's beautiful, almost unnaturally so…"

"He's human. And mine. So fuck off."

"What about Lady?"

"She's her own person."

"Something tells me she doesn't want to be."

"Shut the fuck up, okay Vergil?"

"Okay."

Dante lunged at him. The sound of their swords clashing rang throughout the mansion.

"You were never the one to keep human pets, Vergil."

The surprise on Vergil's face was momentary, but Dante ate it up.

"Oh, you didn't think I'd find out about that either?" he asked as Vergil pushed him back.

Dante blocked Vergil's butterfly strike and returned with a stinger strike. Vergil effortlessly side stepped it.

"Find out about what? You're neurotic." Vergil said as he thrust his katana toward Dante's exposed midriff.

"'Bout the man in white." Dante said, batting Vergil's sword away and allowing himself to fall to the ground and roll.

Vergil clenched his teeth and promised vengeance on his foolish lover for his disobedience.

"Maybe I'll fuck 'im like you fucked mine."

Dante hadn't even finished the last word of that sentence before Vergil was on him, pushing him back to the wall. The feel of Yamato piercing his gut was like having his guts seared by red hot brand. Dante's sword arm was pinned by one of Vergil's hands, but his other arm was free. He balled up his hand and slammed it into the side of Vergil's head.

They hadn't fought hand to hand in a long time, so the surprised grunt from Vergil was like music to Dante's ears.

Vergil backhanded Dante and pulled away from him, taking the Yamato with him.

Dante spat out blood and threw Rebellion to the ground. There was a murderous grin on his face.

Dante rushed Vergil, tackling him before he could coordinate a strike, the Yamato flying out of Vergil's fingers and clattering to the ground.

They hadn't fought with their fists against each other for so long, but that didn't mean they didn't know how.

The brothers rolled around on the ground, grunting, punching each other in the gut, the head, the face. Vergil ended up on top of Dante, taking swings at his little brother's face without abandon. Dante bucked Vergil off and rolled to his feet.

They squared off, and for a moment everything was still.

Then the hall erupted with movement.

Dante threw a flurry of punches that Vergil batted away, grabbing one of Dante's fist and smashing his elbow into the side of Dante's head.

The two parted and Vergil stared blankly at Dante as blood leaked out of his ear.

Vergil's heart was thudding hard in his chest. He was never more alive than he was in this moment.

Dante, on the other hand, was filled with fury. He rushed Vergil.

"Fool me once…" Vergil said, sidestepping his brother. He lashed out with one leg, kicking Dante in the head and sending him flying.

Dante hit the closed window and closed his eyes instinctively as the glass shattered behind him. He hit the ground hard, and cussed. When he looked up, Vergil was standing in the opening, demons teeming behind him. Vergil's hand moved and Rebellion came spinning down toward him. Dante held up a hand and caught it by the hilt. Just as Vergil turned to disappear into the teeming mass of demons, Dante pulled out Ebony and fired at him. He didn't see it, but he knew Vergil had sliced the bullets, allowing them to explode like firecrackers safely away from himself.

When Vergil left, the demons spilled out of the broken window, and flowed around Dante like he was nothing more than a rock in the flow of a stream.

He turned and looked in the direction of their path and swore. Where was Lady?

He swore again and ran into the mansion, heading to the west wing.

Now that the demons were stampeding toward the red light district, the mansion was eerily empty. He wasn't running because he was concerned about Lady or anything. It was purely his fear for the humans in the red light district that—Leto was at Lola's. Shit. Fuck fuck fuck.

He found her, moving weakly. Dante had to admit the bitch was tough. Most people would have fainted for the pain, or blood loss, although the knives did prevent most of the blood from coming out. He knelt beside her and cussed. "The man in white?" he asked.

"Spanish son of a bitch." Lady confirmed.

Dante chuckled. It was good that she was pissed and not in real distress. He didn't think he could handle a damsel version of Lady. She was a tough bitch, and he was used to that.

"This's gonna hurt."

"Just get them out. The demons, someone is penning them—"

"I know. Vergil just let them loose."

"Shit, the red ligh—fuck!"

"Sorry. Yeah I know. We have to get down there."

Dante didn't apologize for ripping the sleeves off of Lady's blouse. He bound her wrists tightly and helped her up.

"You alright to go?" he asked.

Lady rolled her eyes. "I'm a big girl… but I think you should drive." she said as they ran for the entrance.

* * *

><p>Vergil stalked to his rooms, peeling his gloves off and shrugging his jacket off. When he entered the room, he found Argent on the floor, his hand clamped over his midriff.<p>

His white jacket was tossed in the corner of their dark room, a bloody hole in it. Vergil tossed his jacket and gloves on a chair, propping Yamato next to it before he walked over to Argent.

He squatted, the leather of his boots creaking. Argent was hissing breath between his teeth, sweat dampening his thick curls. The Spaniard looked to be in immense pain.

Vergil examined his back, noting no exit wound and sighed.

"You got shot…"

Argent looked up to Vergil, the appropriate amount of fear in his eyes.

"Oh Argent." Vergil said, reaching out to pick him up.

Argent cried out as Vergil lifted him, feeling all the weight in his gut. It was like a flame eating at his insides.

"Shush. You got yourself shot, this is your fault." Vergil said, his voice a bit too tender.

Argent was worried. Something was wrong, Vergil was acting too nice.

The half-devil laid Argent on the bed and walked away from him only to come back, four of his silk scarves in his hands. His smile chilled Argent to the bone as the man began to tie his wrist to the bedpost. He cried out as Vergil stretched him out, only to be slapped.

The whole left half of his face was numb, and he couldn't feel the tears that leaked out of his left eye on his cheek.

"Didn't I tell you to play with Lady? What…" Vergil said and calmed himself. "What were you doing near my brother?" he asked coldly.

Argent was spread-eagle on the bed, his wrists and ankles bound expertly to the bedposts. He had no answer to Vergil's question. There was no answer that would save him from the pain to come.

"He's not like you."

It was the wrong thing to say.

Vergil dug two fingers into Argent's wound.

The Spaniard screamed loud and long, his body going rigid.

Vergil ran his tongue over his teeth, lingering on his canine. Argent had been getting used to the abuse, but his reaction to this pain reminded Vergil of when their relationship was brand new. He used to scream so loud, beg and sob and plead.

The half-devil was hard just thinking about it.

He pulled his fingers out, the bullet resting between them.

Argent cried out wordlessly and relaxed against the bed, shaking and sweating.

It was such a parody of sex; Vergil thought Argent was deliberately teasing him. Then again, Argent didn't really like the pain so much as what he got out of it at the end. No, he wouldn't willingly allow Vergil to torture him.

He hated that torture, he wanted affection.

Vergil slipped his fingers in his mouth, tasting Argent's blood, his tongue sliding around the bullet.

When he pulled his fingers out of his mouth, the bullet was clean, his fingers not so much. There was blood in the grooves of his nails.

"It's too bad you're human" Vergil said, looking over at Argent.

For a moment, the Spaniard looked terrified, as though Vergil would end his misery right then and there. But when he saw Vergil's intentions in his cold, dead gaze, the terror turned to horror and he protested loudly.

"Please Vergil! I need to see a doctor, you can't!"

But Vergil wasn't listening. He was already pulling off his clothes, folding them and setting them to the side.

Argent should have been disgusted that Vergil was already hard, but all he could do was look at him and want it. He was a sick animal, but Argent knew he hadn't always been that way. At the start, he'd had some form of morals and limits.

Vergil reached down and tore off Argent's pants. Leather sounded too much like flesh when it was ripped. For one crazy moment, Argent thought Vergil had torn off his skin. He didn't know whether to scream or faint, but when he saw the white leather sail past his vision, he relaxed.

The white-haired man leaned over his Spanish lover and tilted his chin up so that Argent could see into his eyes. "You want it".

It wasn't a question. It was an observation.

"I-I need to get sewn up Vergil."

It wasn't exactly a denial, and Vergil knew he'd exacerbate the wound. Argent could die under him.

He hitched the Spaniard's legs up, pulling him as far as the silk restraints would allow.

Argent cried out as his muscles stretched, tugging at his wound.

He leaned down again, hovering over Argent. "Ask me to fuck you."

Vergil wanted to fuck his wound, but that would probably kill Argent, and although the man was a large pain in his ass, finding such a handsome and vulnerable human was not easy. Despite his excursions to see Leto, he couldn't afford to always be on top of the redhead. His brother had already caught him, and would warn Leto against him. Then he'd have to take what he wanted from the lovely redhead, and that wouldn't be as good as pretending to be his brother. There was nothing like consensually fucking what wasn't his.

Argent was crying, his hands balled up, knuckles white from the pressure.

"Ask me to fuck you."

"Fuck me."

"Say it like you mean it."

"Fuck me, Vergil, please."

Vergil sank his thumb into the wound and hooked it.

Argent screamed three octaves higher than normal.

A shiver ran down Vergil's spine and settled in his loins. His heavy cock hung close to the bed, a thread of precum connecting it to the sheets.

He pulled his thumb out and stuck it in his mouth. He closed his eyes as he sucked the blood off of it.

Argent's panting stirred the heavy silence in the room, his vision was blurring and he felt like flames were eating him from the inside out. But when he looked up, Vergil didn't seem to look as though he cared. Vergil caught him looking and a chunk of ice formed in his stomach, sinking low.

Vergil slid his thumb out of his mouth and grabbed Argent's thigh.

"Say it like you mean it."

It seemed too long a time between Vergil's demand and Argent's response. The half-devil went to jab another finger into Argent's wound.

The Spaniard caved.

"Follarte me!"

Vergil loved it when Argent didn't have the sense to speak in English. It was damn sexy to hear his hoarse Spanish. Maybe that's why Vergil kept him, for his Spanish.

There was no warning, no preparation.

Vergil took him like a lustful animal, heedless of how badly he hurt his lover.

The pain of penetration was exceeded by the pain of his open wound. Every thrust was a lightning-bolt, searing him from the insides, tongues of white hot electricity licking against his brain. Argent smelled smoke, faintly, and wondered if he was actually being internally electrocuted.

He heard screaming, high pitched and hysterical. Whoever was screaming didn't need to breathe, it seemed. There were no pauses for a hasty breath or an eventual decrease in volume. It was awful, and Argent wished whoever was screaming like that would just die already.

Vergil hadn't ever fucked Argent when he'd had such a bad wound, mostly because Argent was careful about not getting hurt so terribly. It was like he knew that if he ever sustained a wound so grievous, that Vergil would want to fuck the hell out of him. Vergil knew that the Spaniard knew that his pain turned the half-devil on.

He was going to cum far too soon.

Argent's screams were pushing him over the edge.

Vergil watched as Argent's body tensed, arched against the bed, his head thrown back as far as it could, the muscles in his arms bulging as he tried to tear loose from his bonds. He was so tight right now, it was almost painful.

Poor bastard. Any normal human would have fainted by now, but Vergil knew Argent wasn't normal. He couldn't faint, his body was too aware, his mind was too awake. He wondered if Argent's awareness was both his gift and curse. It prevented his mind and body from shutting down. Sleep never came to the Spaniard easily, and although it would benefit him at the moment, to faint, he couldn't. However, in battle, it preserved him. It kept him two steps ahead of other humans, and on par with devils. Low level devils were no match for Argent, mediocre devils were a good workout for Argent. High devils were Argent's match, devils like Dante and Vergil, their father one of the highest ranking devils in all of Hell.

The Spaniard couldn't make up the lack of strength with speed when it came to high ranking devils, for they were fast and strong.

Vergil cried out, the suddenness of his orgasm causing him to flicker in and out of his devil form. The result was havoc on Argent, whose screaming reached a pitch that hurt even Vergil's ears.

For a moment, the devil felt ashamed at what he put his lover through. The asphyxiation was one thing, the bondage another, but this might have gone too far.

When he pulled out of Argent, the Spaniard convulsed violently. His entire body bucked and writhed, his cries dwindling, not for lack of trying. He'd lost his voice. His face was glistening with sweat, tears and snot.

Vergil untied Argent, taking care to inspect each scarf for rips. The care with which he handled the scarves struck Argent as funny and he began to laugh.

The half-devil looked at his lover and sighed, padding away from him and into the bathroom.

* * *

><p>Stavros stared down at Argent, muttering curses under his breath. Vergil had told him it was worse than usual, but this was possibly the worst Stavros had seen from Vergil.<p>

Argent was on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Somehow, the Spaniard had passed out, probably from unsustainable blood loss. He was an aware bastard, unable to feel the effects of anesthesia or drugs.

The pain he must have gone through… it was monstrous.

But that's what Vergil was, a monster.

He didn't deserve Argent, and the man didn't realize that. He was so afraid of being tossed aside, so afraid of being heartbroken that he put up with Vergil.

No one could put up with this side of Vergil and stay sane.

"Can you fix him?"

Stavros whipped around, staring through his round lenses at Vergil.

The doctor was as tall as Vergil, but much more barrel chested, his thick muscles straining the sleeves of his coat. His hair was iron grey, now, but it had been a rich black when he had first met Vergil. It was left loose, barely dusting his shoulders. His eyes were a bright green, contrasting sharply with his pale skin and dull hair. His coat was buttoned all the way down to his waist, where it was tied back by the attached belt. His pants were made of a dark, canvass material, which was good because blood wouldn't show on it. He wore combat boots, possibly reminiscent from his stint in the army. But Vergil knew Stavros to be a thoroughly logical man. He didn't have sentiment towards objects or people. The man had probably found it to be the most efficient footwear. Stavros King was all about efficiency.

But that didn't mean that Stavros didn't have morals of his own. He'd done some pretty despicable things in his service to demons of Vergil's caliber, but the level of cruelty always matched what a person could mentally handle. He often stopped when he got what he wanted, but Vergil didn't have such restraint, which was usually a characteristic of demons, the lack of restraint.

Stavros could hear the shame in Vergil's voice.

"He's human, there's only so much he can take."

"I asked you if you can fix him."

"I can sew him up if that's what you mean."

Vergil ground his teeth. Stavros was not afraid of him, in the slightest. He'd served demons without a human cancer inside of them. He knew his limits with Vergil, but he also knew how important he was to the man. He had troubled himself with a human lover, and he needed a capable, trustworthy doctor that wouldn't run his mouth or run from a demon and his creepy demon slaves.

"Sew him up, then."

Stavros eyed him. "He'll be insane before too long."

The ice seeped back into Vergil's voice. "I didn't ask you about his sanity. Sew him up and get out."

Stavros unpacked his bag. He had everything he needed to take care of Argent. Normally that meant he'd be transfusing blood and fluids intravenously, sewing up muscle and skin, setting bones, treating bruises, abrasions and burns.

He'd never had to actually perform surgery. Vergil had already crudely dug the bullet out, but there was a lot of damage, done both by Vergil and the bullet.

The worst of it was Argent's muscle. The bullet had torn right through it; he must have been leaping towards the shooter. It had been lodged in the thick hard muscle over Argent's ribs. What had Vergil been thinking? Argent could have been dead by now, were it not for his extraordinary luck.

He pulled on his gloves and began his work.

* * *

><p>Dante drove up just as a demon exploded, breaking a large hole in the external wall of Lola's. Already he could hear screams and death.<p>

Fuck. He hoped Leto was smart enough to get out.

Lady had recovered enough to start shooting, both she and Dante cutting a path through the demons to get at Lola's.

The inside was no longer sultry, looking more like a slaughterhouse. Girls lay strewn on the stage, patrons scattered around like broken dolls. Blood adorned everything, and pooled where bodies lay. Demons were skulking through.

Dante let loose.

Lady had gone on ahead while Dante took care of the demons on Lola's stage.

She could see that the demons were just getting to the rooms, finding and massacring girls as they went. The screams were terrible, but Lady's heart was hardened to them. She slew demons where she could, sparing girls and shoving them in the direction of the exit.

The alarm went off and Lady winced. Someone had found the back fire exit and hadn't shown any kind of qualms in bursting out of it. Charging ahead of the fleeing girls, Lady stood in the doorway, seeing to the safety of the women and trying to spot—Hair as red as fresh blood, skin pale, kissed with freckles along the shoulders. Tall, muscular, and tugging a buxom babe behind him.

Leto.

He was alright.

She sighed and ducked back inside, taking care of lurking demons she hadn't got the chance to off while she was trying to save a few meager lives. She could hear Dante tearing through the establishment, meting out judgment on the devils that had slain girls he'd come to be fond of. Songbird and Lola herself were not among the dead, which was a good thing.

And when Dante reached Lady and heard the good news, only then did he seem to relax and take things like the big joke that they were.


End file.
